


Blessings and Curses, Both in Disguise

by zeldadestry



Category: Fables - Willingham
Genre: Community: 100_women, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-10-13
Updated: 2008-10-13
Packaged: 2017-10-26 09:58:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/281688
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zeldadestry/pseuds/zeldadestry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I know you're upset. I get that, I do. Just tell me why."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blessings and Curses, Both in Disguise

**Author's Note:**

> written for shealynn88 in the 2008 yuletide new year resolution challenge  
> prompt 77, "apple", for 100_women fanfic challenge

"Go," Bigby orders the physical therapist. "I'll take care of this." She turns over on her side in the narrow hospital bed, towards the window and away from him. "What's wrong?" he asks her.

"It's too hard."

"Come on, Snow, you're tougher than this."

"It hurts."

"So?"

"Leave me alone." She curls up tighter when he sits down on the edge of the bed, shrugs away when he tries to rest his hand on her shoulder.

"I know you're upset. I get that, I do. Just tell me why."

She hates it when he talks like that, sounds so assured, when he makes her want to believe he can handle everything, take care of her, make it alright, if she'll just say yes. "I'm scared."

"Don't be. All they want, all any of us want, is to help you, help you get better. Let us."

She turns back towards him, pushes herself up to sitting so she can meet his eyes. "What if it doesn't work? What if, after all of this, I can't ever walk again?"

"Don't you dare think like that. I know you, you don't give up." His arms wrap around her and she allows it, but pulls away when he drops a kiss to her temple.

"Don't," she pleads.

"I'm not asking you for anything. Comfort from a friend, that's all."

She knows he's telling the truth, but it would have been too easy to kiss him back and that is what she can not abide. "Who says you're my friend?" she mutters, but her cheek remains beside his own, and when his hand strokes the small of her back, she sighs.

"It will be ok," he says, "I promise." He shepherds her with his hands, guides her to lie back down. He carefully brings the sheet and blanket up over her body. "You need to rest." His hand is near her own, but he does not touch her again. He checks his watch, frowns. "I've got to go. Business."

"Tell me."

"Nothing you need to worry about. Nothing I can't handle."

"Why don't I believe you?"

"Because you don't trust me." She doesn't refute it, doesn't look at him, though she can see him in the periphery of her vision, his hand on the door handle. "You don't, but you can." She keeps her silence. "Sweet dreams," he says, and leaves.

  
Her head falls back and she dares to open her eyes halfway, dares to watch him watching her with even more hunger than the first time they'd met, when he'd longed to taste all her flesh, when she was the sweetest morsel he'd ever had in sight. "Kiss me," she says, or only thinks it, and his mouth covers her own. How does he know just how to touch her? Gentle and slow, he can feel her hesitancy. Gentle and slow, like he wants her to know that he will never hurt her, tantalizing terrifying tease of his fingers moving down her body.

"Please," he begs, shameless and desperate like the dog he is and is not. "All I want is you, you and me, together." It has been centuries. Alone is safe, and she is scared. "Please," Bigby says, again and again, with his words, his hands, as she shakes in his arms, until finally her want becomes so intense that it burns away her doubt.

"Yes," she sighs. "Together." Her whole life, her entire history, is falling away, and all she knows is his heartbeat racing underneath her palm, his breath catching at her ear, when he breaks between her thighs.

  
He picks up an enormous breakfast for her from the diner, serves eggs, bacon, and French toast to her in bed. "Who's the wolf, now?" he says, as she ravenously attacks the food, and he grins to see her eat every last bite.

After she is finished he leans in towards her, staring intently. She draws away, unsure of his intentions, uncomfortable as his prey. The movement is so slight, but nothing regarding her ever escapes his attention. "Afraid I'm going to bite or afraid you'll like it?" he mutters. "You've got a rogue drop of maple syrup," he explains, rubs his thumb over his own cheek to demonstrate the spot.

"Oh!" She blushes, scrubs at her face with her napkin. "Did I get it?"

"Yeah." He stands, stretches, motions for the door. "I'm gonna go have a smoke. Need anything else?"

She wants him to know she is trying. "Bigby?"

"Yeah?"

"I've been having the strangest craving," she murmurs.

"For what?"

"Apples," she confesses.

"Apples? Why didn't you say so before? I'll bring you some."

"But I'm scared."

"Scared?" His eyes search her own, then widen in recognition. "Oh, right."

"My father always said he did it for me, married again so that I could have a mother again, but I never asked for that. And my stepmother, with her evil gifts, she made me believe that anything I wanted, anything I found beautiful, could only bring pain."

"I'm sorry."

"I know...I know. You don't need to say it and it's not why I told you." He waits along with her, silent. "I just want you to understand," she finally says. His fingertips slip through her hair, brush against her scalp, and she shivers. The skin is still sensitive, may never fully finish healing from Little Red Riding Hood's shot. "You may always be able to tell how I feel, but you won't always know why."

When he returns it is with a basket of apples, filled to the top with different varieties. He picks them up, one at a time, and displays them for her approval. "This one? Or this one? How about this one?" When she finally sees the one she fancies, her hand tightens around his wrist. "This is the one," he says, satisfied. "Don't worry. I'll take the first bite." He does as he promises, then holds it out to her mouth. She takes her first small taste, chews delicately, carefully swallows. She waits, waits, and the world remains around her, Bigby remains beside her, nothing has changed. "Is it good? What you wanted?" She nods, grabs the fruit into her own two hands and ravages it down to the core.

"Thank you," she says, when she has finished.

"No problem," he replies, "anything for you," and when she raises her face for a kiss, he curves his hand around the dome of her baby swollen belly and licks the juice from her lips.


End file.
